


A Request for a Dance

by ryuseistreamgirl



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Emet-Selch yearns for her Touch, F/M, Female Miqo'te (Final Fantasy XIV), Final Fantasy XIV: Shadowbringers Spoilers, I'm way overdue, Masquerade Grand Ball, Miqo'te Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Starlight Celebration (Final Fantasy XIV), ambiguous timeline, it's long when it was supposed to be short okay, semi-shadowbringers spoiler
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-31
Updated: 2020-12-31
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:47:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28446360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ryuseistreamgirl/pseuds/ryuseistreamgirl
Summary: The Warrior of Light is invited to one of Ishgard's Grand Balls, a seasonal celebration. This time, all attendees are meant to go incognito. Some flirt with the line of identifiability, while others are wholesale anonymous.The WoL is approached by a mysterious stranger in a red mask, who makes a simple request -- simple relative to the many arduous tasks they've completed as the Warrior, yet intimidating all the same for its unfamiliarity; a dance.Part of the Book Club's Winter Fic Exchange 2020
Relationships: Solus zos Galvus | Emet-Selch/Warrior of Light
Comments: 5
Kudos: 14
Collections: Bookclub Winter Fic Exchange 2020





	A Request for a Dance

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TenkeyLess](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TenkeyLess/gifts).



The Warrior of Light was surprised to see a messenger from Ishgard arrive at The Rising Stones in Mor Dhona. Her initial thoughts ran a malm per second, worrying about her friends in the snowy city. But that initial worry was wiped clean when the messenger handed her an envelope with a smile – an envelope containing an invitation card to Ishgard’s Starlight Grand Ball, which was kindly explained as one of their seasonal celebrations that takes place at the end of the year.

The sender was none other than Count Edmont du Fortemps, a fatherly-figure to the Warrior. He was warm and understanding, even encouraged her when she was feeling especially down. So, getting a personal invitation from him warmed her heart.

He even made sure to invite the rest of the Scions of the Seventh Dawn as well. She watched Tataru beckon them over as they walked inside while the messenger personally made sure all the invitations were given out to the proper recipients. Except for Thancred, which Tataru _personally_ promised to track down the male and _personally_ hand it to him. The Warrior let out a chuckle at her own image of Tataru hunting down Thancred in her usual fit-for-the-occasion outfits the lalafell magically has time to make by herself.

No. Really. Where does Tataru find time to do everything that she does?

She snapped out of her thoughts when a voice called her name. “Do you have anything in your numerous wardrobes for this _special_ occasion?” Alisaie asked, flashing her own invitation at the Warrior in worry.

“It’s just a ball, right? I think I’ve got a few dresses in mind.”

“I heard there’s a special dress-code for this year’s Grand Ball,” Y’shtola added, standing besides Alisaie with a smirk on her lips. That… didn’t look like a good sign.

Swallowing, the miqo’te looked down at her own invitation, ears flattening as her eyes carefully read every word on the invitation until a certain line at the bottom popped out at her:

_For this year’s Starlight Grand Ball, we require every attendee to wear a mask._

“The Committee that prepared this year’s Grand Ball decided to have a masked ball to allow every attendee to interact with each other without worrying about their background or position.”

“Sounds like a great plan if you ask me. After everything they went through, this might be a great refreshing point. Besides…” Alisaie’s lips tugged upwards as she examined the Warrior from head to toe. “We can’t have the _Hero_ stand out, can we?”

Y’shtola giggled, her smile widening with each word; “Oh no. We can’t afford to have a whole line of fans awaiting their turn to talk to _our precious Hero_.”

“Of course not! So that means only one thing!”

Next thing she knew, the _precious_ Hero was being dragged out of The Rising Stones with both ladies latched onto her arms.

“We’re quite sure you own no ball gowns, so you have no say in this and you’re coming with us!”

Even if she struggled, she didn’t think she could get out of their tight grips.

At least they seemed to be having fun.

… Having fun playing doll dress-up with the Warrior of Light, that is.

She lost count how many dresses she was forced to change into, only to have the two shake their heads and fetch another dress for her to try on. The trio had been hopping from dress shop to dress shop, looking for _the_ dress for the Warrior to wear.

This went on for a few weeks before they settled on a lilac-colored off-the-shoulder dress. The top of the dress was accented with swirling patterns you might find in a castle or magically enchanted items, with the accent fading out as it reaches past the waistline onto the skirt. The hemline barely reached the floor, skirt decorated with flowers and butterflies as if they were spilling out of the gown to make Spring appear just underneath the wearer’s feet.

Despite all the decorations, it didn’t feel heavy (unlike some of the other dresses she was forced to try on that felt like she was going to crash down the moment she tried to move). On top of that, the dress didn’t obstruct her tail’s movement, suggesting the dress was made by an experienced dressmaker.

“A-Are you sure this is befitting the theme of the Grand Ball?” She twirled around in place, examining herself in the mirror in awe. The ball’s theme was _Starlight_ , and she was wearing a dress that looked like spring!

“Of course,” was the response she got, the two women replying in perfect harmony. Reflected in the corner of the mirror were Alisaie and Y’shtola with the same smirk they had in The Rising Stones before the whole dress shopping adventure started. She could hear them saying “there was no other requirement” without them voicing it.

The Warrior, clad in the beautiful dress, fidgeted with embarrassment. Ball gowns were one of the last things she thought she’d own and seeing herself wear one in the mirror made her blush. “We can… stop shopping now, right?” She got the main gown. Now she could finally relax in her soft bed for the rest of the day!

Or so she thought…

“You’d wish. Now we have to find the other piece; the perfect mask to match your dress!” Alisaie handed her original clothes back while Y’shtola disappeared to the cashier to pay for the dress.

The Warrior mentally cursed herself for forgetting that part.

Luckily, she found a mask in similar lilac color just a couple days later. The masquerade-styled half-mask was accented in sparkling, swirling patterns that matched her dress. Thin wires dyed in lilac extended out from the mask in the shape of a silhouette of a butterfly. The wings were decorated in a similar fashion as the rest of the patterns but kept its independence if you looked closely, making it look like the butterfly landed on the mask.

By the time the Warrior (more like Alisaie and Y’shtola, _for_ the Warrior) was done with shopping, they only had about a week before the date of the Grand Ball. She was worried her friends didn’t have time to buy anything for themselves, but they quickly reassured they were fine and had everything in order. She didn’t believe them but nodded in understanding -- just like how she usually does.

As the Scions started to voice their excitement for the Grand Ball and how their outfits were coming together, someone suggested it might be good to start heading over to Ishgard. Knowing them, something or someone would need their helping hand at one point or another before the event. Alphinaud was the first to leave, bearing the role of informing the Fortemps their earlier than planned arrival (and settling in first, of course). And so, once the Warrior finished packing, she headed to the snowy city a week before the ball.

★★★

How long has it been since the last time Emet-Selch got to take a _real_ nap? Perhaps, close to a century at this point; he finished his job as _Emperor_ Solus yae Galvus at the mortal age of 88 and has been plotting out and about the Garlean Empire prior to being Solus.

He told himself he finally deserves to take a nap away from civilization.

But something bought his feet to Ishgard. An intuition, if he’d say so. He felt he had a need to take a quick peek at how Ishgard has been faring since the end of their War against Dragons.

That was exactly how he found _that_ soul.

Its faint but distinguished hue of the soul was no doubt _the_ soul that used to belong to someone very dear to him. Emet-Selch wasn’t sure if he was surprised at all to find the vessel of the soul was none other than the famous Warrior of Light his brethren has been complaining about recently. Perhaps, it was _fate_ that that soul stood against him and the Ascians – just like how the person who it used to belong to used to be in Ancient Times.

His feet followed after the Warrior; hand reached out to grab her when a voice loudly greeted her. He quickly withdrew into the shadows, irritated at the mortal who dared to interrupt him and narrowed his eyes as he watched the Warrior enter the Fortemps Manor.

Interrupt?

What was he going to do once he reached out to her? There was no way she’d remember who she used to be. As individuals who were bound to opposing Gods, there was no way they’d see eye to eye – not until one of them were freed from their God’s hold.

He shook his head at the thought and withdrew deeper into the shadows. Waiting and observing were what he was used to doing; there’s be no difference this time in watching the Warrior from the shadows. He didn’t like the vessel, but he loves the soul. Though smaller and fainter than what it used to be, the soul still shined beautifully, and he felt like he could watch it all day.

He watched her soul move around within the Manor from the outside. He watched the soul pulse at different speeds, reflecting on what the Warrior was feeling at that moment and who she was interacting with. It was quite an entertainment for him as he watched her shift from one mood to another so quickly. As much as he hated to admit it, it reminded him of a certain person before the world Sundered and it brought a smile to his lips as he recalled the numerous memories he had with said person.

When she left the Manor the next day, Emet-Selch followed behind in the shadow as he watched her interact with her friends and random passersby’s. He still wasn’t sure what he’d do once he succeeded in catching her attention, which was very unlike him. But he knew he had to – he wanted to feel her warmth. The longer it took him to find the time to safely reach out to her, the more he found himself feeling irritated. He never felt this way even his plans were thrown off course throughout the years for the Great Rejoining to occur. Yet, he was being irritated at the smallest things with this Warrior. Even watching her laugh from the bottom of her heart made him angry.

 _‘What right do I have to be mad at the Warrior of Light? She’s not **that** person.’_ Emet-Selch repeatedly told himself that the emotions he was feeling were ridiculous.

When the Warrior entered a busy street filled with shops that were open at this time of year, he quickly left the safety of his shadows. Of course, not before changing his outfit to better suit the cold weather of Coerthas and blended into the crowd before following a few steps behind. His eyes never left her, watching things that others could not see. When the Warrior and her companion stopped at a stall, he stopped there as well. He pretended to take interest in what was displayed for sale, but he was watching her closely and embracing how close he was to the very soul he cherished from thousands of years ago. Although her physical appearance was not the same, he still felt a rush of nostalgia. After a moment, he tried to reach out to her once more, but she slipped out from between his fingers again as she went back to the streets.

He repeated this a few times as the Warrior and her companion walked down the district. Each time he had a chance to reach out she’d slip away again, or he’d find himself just unable to grab her attention. He was feeling emotions he hadn’t felt in years that Emet-Selch was having trouble coping with them, preventing him from taking that one step to call out the Warrior’s name.

Unable to take any real actions, Emet-Selch was met with the sun setting in his eyes and watched her retreat into the Manor where he presumed the warmth of fireplace awaited her.

 _‘This is fine. I’ve heard the Warrior of Light likes to stay in one spot for a while. I’ll have more chances later.’_ Emet-Selch retreated to the warmth of his shadow.

The next few days, the Ascian watched the Warrior and Scions of the Seventh Dawn run around Ishgard as they took on requests after requests. Some of them were like fetch quests as they became delivery-men. Something about an upcoming ball or something? Whatever the event was, the fact that the feline Warrior was running around alone as she took on the requests of Ishgardians meant he had a much higher chance of trying to get her attention. Perhaps, he can snatch her away and have a private chat with her without anyone noticing.

Or so he thought.

Somehow, he had less chances than the first day. The Warrior being quick on her feet was one thing, but the Ishgardians weren’t leaving her alone!

 _‘Why isn’t she ever **a l o n e**!?’_ Emet-Selch pinched the bridge of his nose, as he let out a deep sigh. He caught himself losing patience at the smallest thing once more, and he knew he had to collect his composure before he decided to just go out and kidnap the miqo’te in broad daylight in the middle of civilization.

A tempting idea, but one he should not act on if he wanted to keep his sanity over the course of the next decade.

The day Emet-Selch finally got to talk to her was on the day of the Starlight Grand Ball.

★★★

The female Warrior felt like she was a doll. The maids of Fortemps Manor bathed her, massaged her, dressed her, and now was doing her hair and make-up as she sat in front of a mirror. Her hair that was typically pulled up into a bun or ponytail was down for once ( _‘for **elegance** or whatever’_) and sparkled with… whatever spray they put on her hair. Her lashes and lips were done to match her dress and mask, cheeks slightly pink from the powder they put on.

By the time the maids were done, the Warrior couldn’t recognize herself in the mirror.

“Now no one will know you’re the Warrior of Light!” One of the younger maids squeaked out, proud of the final result. Her tail swished in embarrassment as her cheeks turned a shade darker.

“Th-Thank you, everyone.”

Just like the maid said (and exactly as planned by Alisaie and Y’shtola), the Warrior didn’t seem to be recognized by anyone who were attending the Starlight Grand Ball that evening. Even if they did, they seemed to be keeping their distances, like the Scions for example.

While she was taking a snack at the snack table, Alisaie and Y’shtola quietly came over to examine how she looked with all the pieces put together on her.

“For once, I’ll admit you look more beautiful than me today,” whispered Alisaie, nicknamed “Red” during the ball. She wore a red dress that matched the color of her usual outfit. Though, the dress looked a little too short for someone her age. The feline wasn’t sure how Alphinaud approved of his sister wearing this, though… Her mask, on the other hand, was a simple mask that covered around her eyes and matched the color of her dress, probably where her nickname originated from.

Y’shtola, on the other hand, wore a dark grey-colored dress. The skirt touched the floor on the back, but was shorter in the front, exposing her legs but showed off the beautiful black shoes she wore to whomever was lucky to have a conversation with her. Her mask was made of wires, covering both her eyes and half of her face. The color of the mask made her glassy eyes stand out like full moon in the night sky, earning her the “Twin Moons” nickname.

“I really have to thank you two and the maids for today,” the Warrior whispered back with a small smile.

Y’shtola chuckled quietly. “Don’t mention it. We had our fun.” She grabbed a drink from the table and took a sip and let out a hum when the taste was to her liking. She nodded her head to the Warrior before breaking off from the snack table to join a conversation she seemed to have caught an interest of with her keen ears. Alisaie also seemed to have started a conversation with someone across the table as well, leaving the Warrior alone once again. Taking this as an opportunity, she decided to have a chat with some people she hadn’t had a chance to talk to since arriving in Ishgard and few other Eorzean guests she recognized.

Once she was done with her third glass, she needed to take a step out to breathe in some fresh air and to cool off her warming cheeks. What’s better than the cold weather of Ishgard?

The miqo’te left the building the ball was held in and headed towards a quiet spot next to the building. She found the small, octagon shaped gazebo while she was running errands a couple days prior and knew it was a good idea to memorize where it was located. She sat on the stone bench under the roof, letting her feet rest from hours of standing and walking in new shoes.

When she was admiring the snowy view she could see from where she sat, a voice suddenly called out; “May I join you?” She turned her head towards the owner of the voice, immediately drawn to the mysteriously shaped red mask that covered his face. She stared at the design for a moment too long for her own liking, quickly averting her gaze to anywhere else before nodding at his request. The man only stood under the gazebo, never daring to come closer.

“May I… ask a simple request?” he spoke once more. The Warrior brought her attention back at the man, clad in classic, black tuxedo with equally black tie. She tilted her head in confusion, completely forgotten that she was no longer the Warrior of Light but just a simple miqo’te lady wearing lilac colored dress that night. “May I request a dance? Just one song?” he motioned to the building next to them, the end of the current song leaking from the open windows. For all the tasks she had completed, a request for a dance was a simple one, yet intimidating and unfamiliar to the Warrior of Light.

The man in the red mask held his hand out, like a gentleman waiting for his lady to take his hand for a simple dance for the night. The miqo’te couldn’t help but slightly panic – she has never danced in her life! Especially a formal dance like a ball! But the pair of golden eyes that peeked between his red mask pleaded her for a dance. Just one request.

“I…” She hesitated. “I’ve never formally danced before…” she confessed, placing her hand on top of the outstretched hand.

“Do not worry. All you do is follow my lead,” was all she got before she was pulled up from her seat. He firmly held onto her hand as the other was placed on her back to support her. As he led the dance, the Warrior shyly placed her free hand on his shoulder. She couldn’t help but stare at her feet, worried she’d accidentally step on his foot, but he seemed to gracefully dodge being stepped on if that were a skill he possessed.

As she got the hang of dancing, she heard him whisper to her to look up. When she mustered up the courage to look up, she was met with the same pair of golden eyes watching her with amusement. “Are you having fun watching our feet?” he joked, his smile making her heart flutter.

“I-I’m sorry! I just... didn’t want to step on your feet!”

“There’s better things to watch than our feet.” He looked off to the side. The Warrior followed his gaze, eyes widening in awe as she watched the snow fall quietly around them. At this point, the faint sound of the song they were dancing to had already changed to the next. The miqo’te, oblivious to this fact, returned her gaze to the mysterious man once more in confusion when he suddenly stopped dancing. “I did ask for a dance for just one song.”

She let out a quiet ‘Oh’ when she realized the song had changed. “Thank you… for the dance.”

“My pleasure.”

Neither seemed to want to let go of the other, enjoying the warmth they gave off compared to the cold air around them. Until the miqo’te’s ears perked up from hearing a faint call by her friends.

“I think… my friends are looking for me. I should get going…”

“That’s a shame.” She tried to leave his side but was suddenly pulled closer, feeling his radiating warmth flush against her own skin. The man gave a quick kiss on her forehead before he let her go. “Your friends are waiting,” he reminded her, quietly chuckling as he watched her dumbfound look go through a series of emotions in just a few seconds.

“Th-Thank you again!” The Warrior quickly rushed off towards the main entrance of the building, where she heard Alisaie and Y’shtola call for her. She stopped mid-way before looking back at the gazebo, only to find it empty. She couldn’t find him nearby either, confusing her much more. Alisaie’s loud voice snapped her out of her thought, reminding her once again that she had friends out in the cold in search of her.

_‘Maybe… I dreamed it?’_

Emet-Selch let out a quiet chuckle from his shadow, amused at her confusion and feeling accomplished at his week-long mission to talk to the Warrior of Light. Now, he could finally take his long nap.

**Author's Note:**

> WHEW. Minimum was 1500 words. This is nearing 4k owo. Whoops!  
> Anyways! I hope you enjoyed the story! The WoL's outfit was inspired by [this dress](https://446cc725dcaef3edf278-0d88efb47222240872c15fce453c46ba.ssl.cf2.rackcdn.com/product-hugerect-2637598-302975-1529027513-c0f1c07412c3897ed5a7490167c1d510.jpg) and [this mask](https://www.cappelsinc.com/product/butterfly-wing-half-mask/)!
> 
> Also, [here's the link to the discord server](https://discord.gg/enabling-debauched-xivfic) that hosted the fic exchange collection! Lotsa enablers so beware :3c


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